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Nathaniel's POV
The abandoned store smelled of damp wood and dust. Moonlight crept through broken shutters, slicing the gloom into pale fragments. Outside, the sound of boots and clinking armor echoed through the alleyways — the magistrate's guards still hunting us like hounds on a trail.
Elisha stumbled through the door behind me, his breaths ragged, his body little more than a collection of bruises and torn flesh. Just as he crossed the threshold, an arrow whistled past, grazing the doorframe where his spine had been. Without thinking, I grabbed him, shoved him into the shadowed storeroom, and slammed him against the wall.
He grunted, eyes wide, his body tense as I pinned him. My hand pressed over his mouth, silencing him before he could draw attention. We stood like that for a few heartbeats, his bloodied chest rising and falling beneath my grip. His silver hair hung in disheveled strands over his bruised face, and yet—damn him—he smirked.
"Hey…" he whispered hoarsely when I finally let him breathe. "Did you just… save me?"
I scoffed, peeling away from him. "Save you? Don't flatter yourself. I just don't want your stupidity making things worse. Shut up and wait until the guards pass."
He chuckled softly, the sound broken by pain. Even in this state, he found room for arrogance. His legs wobbled under him, and before I could mock him for it, his body slumped. He slid down the wall and hit the ground with a dull thud.
"Elisha?"
No response. His head lolled to the side, his chest rising shallowly. For one alarming instant, I thought he was gone. My gut tightened in a way I didn't like. Kneeling quickly, I pressed my fingers against his neck. A pulse. Faint, but steady. His breath ghosted against my wrist. Relief, sharp and unwelcome, cut through me.
"Tch. Idiot."
I stayed crouched beside him longer than I meant to. I had no experience with tending wounds — battle was always simple to me: kill or don't kill. But this wasn't something I could cut through with a blade. After the noise outside faded and the streets quieted under the blanket of night, I slung his limp body over my shoulder.
When I emerged from the store, Darcelle's eyes widened. "What happened to him?"
I rolled my eyes. "What does it look like? He passed out."
She frowned, clearly irritated by my tone, but said nothing. Xavier, however, stepped forward, determination flashing in his usually soft gaze.
"I know some first aid. Get him to the guest house."
And so we did.
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Back at the guest house, our room transformed into a battlefield of its own kind. Xavier knelt by the bed, his hands surprisingly steady as he cleaned Elisha's wounds with water that Paige fetched. Darcelle ripped cloth into strips for bandages, her jaw tight with focus. Paige hovered, passing medicines, her usually bright chatter replaced with anxious silence.
I sat apart, in a chair by the window, watching the scene unfold. They bustled around him like loyal retainers around a fallen lord. Part of me wanted to scoff at the display. Another part — one I ignored — felt something heavy twist inside my chest at the sight of Elisha's pale, battered form.
Xavier worked carefully, even managing to get a bitter herbal brew past Elisha's lips. When it was done, Elisha lay still, chest rising a little easier.
"If he dies after all this trouble…" I muttered under my breath, "then everything we've done is meaningless."
But I didn't leave my chair. Even when the others drifted off to sleep, one by one, exhaustion pulling them under, I stayed awake, eyes fixed on the idiot.
"You'd better wake up, Elisha," I whispered into the quiet. "I won't drag your corpse around for nothing."
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I don't know when I dozed off, but the sound of shattering clay jolted me awake. My hand instinctively went for the dagger at my side.
The broken plate lay on the floor, shards scattered like teeth. Elisha sat upright on the bed, blinking as if waking from another world. He looked startled to see me awake, then grinned, despite the bruises.
"You… don't know how glad I am to still be alive," he rasped.
I scoffed, though relief surged through me like a wave. "Took you long enough."
Dawn crept faintly at the horizon outside the window. The cursed town of Ardenfel was still asleep, its shadows heavy, but I felt the same as Elisha — relief.
Xavier stirred next, and when he saw Elisha awake, he nearly knocked him over with a hug. "You're alive! I thought you'd—"
"Xavier," Elisha groaned. "You might be the one to kill me if you keep squeezing like that."
Xavier flushed and pulled back. Darcelle cracked a smile, while Paige muttered, "Overdramatic as ever."
Then, all of them turned their eyes on me.
Elisha tilted his head. "You carried me back, didn't you?"
Silence hung. The others grinned knowingly. I looked away. "Don't be stupid. You're strong enough to walk now. We're leaving at dawn."
Elisha chuckled, the sound softer this time. "Still self-absorbed as ever."
Darcelle snorted. Paige chuckled. Xavier laughed outright. I clenched my jaw and said nothing. But when Elisha nudged my shoulder later, smiling quietly and whispering a simple "Thank you"… I found I had no retort.
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We left Ardenfel before the city awoke, cloaked in the fading darkness of night. The road stretched long and empty before us, lined with tall grasses and wildflowers that swayed in the morning breeze. Behind us, the cursed town receded like a nightmare that didn't want to let go.
According to the old map, the next town lay nestled between two mountains said to have been carved by the gods themselves. A sacred place, blessed and named by them: Thyrelith, the town between stone and sky. The old parchment claimed it was a day's travel, but the newer map insisted it would take two. And somewhere along the way, ten kilometers from here, was a solitary roadside motel.
The math confused us, until Elisha — limping but walking — explained.
"It's simple. Two days to the motel if we're on foot. From there, another day to Thyrelith. The old map's wrong. Trust me — I trained under Marco, remember?"
That name carried weight. Even I knew it. Marco, the raider who could turn maps into living things, who saw numbers in landscapes. And Elisha… had been his disciple.
The thought unsettled me. Someone like Elisha, expelled for petty reasons, carried more potential than he let on.
As we walked, Xavier broke the silence. "Why a spear, Elisha? Why not a sword, like everyone else?"
Elisha grinned faintly, adjusting the silver double-edged spear now strapped across his back. "Because no one else would. Raiders clung to swords, bows, hammers. Spears? Those were for palace guards. I wanted to be different. To prove that even a weapon people dismiss can carve its own legend."
Darcelle raised a brow. "Or maybe you just wanted attention."
Elisha chuckled. "That too."
Paige smirked. "At least you admit it."
Their laughter echoed along the road, breaking the weight of the past days. I stayed silent, though inwardly… I understood. To be different was a kind of rebellion. One I'd chosen in my own way.
After a while, I said, "We'll rest after four hours. Enough to recover strength without losing pace."
The group turned to me, surprised.
Elisha grinned. "Finally, a reasonable thought. Maybe you're almost human now."
Xavier laughed. Darcelle nodded. Paige teased, "Careful, Elisha. Nathan might actually become tolerable."
I suppressed a scoff, looking away.
But then Elisha nudged my shoulder again, voice quiet, almost sincere. "Thanks… for not letting me die."
For reasons I couldn't explain, the words lingered.
---
By the time the sun reached its peak, the mountains loomed faintly on the horizon, their peaks shrouded in mist like watchful gods. The road stretched endlessly before us, a path into something larger than all of us.
And though none of us said it aloud, we knew — Ardenfel had only been the beginning.
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